


disappearing children and world-altering video games

by orphan_account



Series: Butterfly Effect [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, I'm adding tags as I go, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Prelude, but only a little??? probably, its just bro strider being not so nice, maybe idk, mom lalonde is a good person, recovering alcoholic mom lalonde, theres angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25493332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you go into the kitchen, you expect a normal Dad Interaction. What you get are newfound siblings, missing friends, and a changed worldview.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal & Dave Strider, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, just good sibling interactions, thats a long time from now though
Series: Butterfly Effect [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846903
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. John: Wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, I am so excited to be doing my first multi-chapter fic! 
> 
> Can you tell that I don't know how to write summaries?
> 
> If all goes well, this should be the prequel for a bigger, longer work I am doing. Expect around five chapters for this? Ten??? something like that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's life changes a whole bunch!  
> Lots of stuff happens ;)

You are John Egbert. 

You are dreaming.

It’s a pleasant dream, not a singular cake in sight. If the dream had a theme, it would be airy, carefree. You rather enjoy this dream, you think to yourself.

So of course, you wake with a start, the quiet rumble of your father’s car engine startling you up into a sitting position. Father figures, being loud and ruining great dreams since 1967. He must be going to the grocery store, again.

You frown, rubbing your nose. You must have fallen asleep with your glasses on. Tossing off your bedsheets, you go and sit at your computer, realizing you are already clothed. Why would you be dressed, when you’ve only just woken up?

Jolting out of bed, struck with the realization, you dash over to your computer, recalling last night’s events. You had been too excited to remember to put on your pajamas, like the idiot you are. 

Today is your thirteenth birthday. Your name is John Egbert, and you are finally a teenager. You feel the same, you guess. You half-hoped you would wake up looking like a mid-teen, but being a teenager feels the same as not, for the most part. 

Not bothering to shower or anything else, you look around your room. Wow, there sure are a lot of cakes scattered around! How did your dad even get in here, anyway? You shake your head, but continue to examine your well-known surroundings. Your posters, Nic Cage’s (sort of gaunt) face hanging above the bed, watching over you as you slumber. Your magic chest, adorned with the yellow stars you’ve loved since forever. And finally, your desk station, with your beloved computer. 

You look over at your drawer, intending to grab your fake arms. Bright and early is as good a time as any for some good-natured pranks. You squint your eyes shut in frustration, realizing that they are in your chest, not the drawer. You set the sugary confection on your bed, and open up the chest, surveying the contents inside. So much sweet loot. Well, if you knew how to use it, it would be.

Taking the arms out of the chest, you decide to grab the smoke pellets too. These will come in handy for a prank, you can feel it. Besides, you’ve wanted to try them out for forever.  After looking longingly at a certain poster on your wall, you read the note on your drawer. It seems to be from your father.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON.

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU.

Your dad can be so lame! Bluh. Sighing, you grab the rolled-up poster next to the note. You grab a hammer and some nails. Putting this up will take some good old fashioned elbow grease! Nailing the poster onto the wall, you smile brightly. It’s the Little Monsters poster that you’ve been wanting for so long. 

Looking again at all the posters on your wall, you spot the calendar. You frown. The video game was supposed to come three days ago! You look out the window, examining the familiar front yard with uncharacteristic precision. Something about today feels foreboding. 

When you notice the red mailbox flag has been flipped up, you are shaken from your thoughts. That means that there is mail! But, your dad pulls into the driveway at precisely that instant, and your mood drops like a rock. He’ll beat you to the mail, forcing you into an interaction with him. You really don’t want to talk to your dad. He’s such a dad, nothing like a Bro. 

You grab your book instead, a family heirloom, to you. A prized joke book, Colonel Sassacre’s Daunting Text is the best thing you’ve ever read. Well, skimmed through. Only Rose could actually read a book like that. 

You’re in the mood to do something idiotic. It is your birthday, so you’re entitled to whatever dipshittery you may get up to. 

You stick the arms in the cake.

You stick the fucking arms the dumb fucking cake.

This is quite possibly the most hilarious thing you’ve ever done.

You look on your desk, leaving the cake in a state of heightened hilarity. You grab the magazine on your desk, GameBro. You read the article because you are a masochist. You grab your magician’s hat and funny glasses too because you are obviously in dire need of a clever disguise. And clever it is. Putting on those glasses, you feel like a new man. An impostor to even yourself. Who are you? Not John Egbert, that’s for certain.

Finally daring to exit your room, you walk down the stairs to the living room. You always hated these stairs, the absolute chunkiness of them, the absurd way they were built, it always aggravated you. 

Your dad is baking again. When is he not baking, anymore? You startle when you see the large present on the rug. It’s massive, almost as tall as you are. You promptly decide to ignore it. 

You take one look at the blazing fireplace, and chuck in the magazine without a single thought. You smile as it burns slowly. Disgusting piece of literature.

You spill your grandmother's ashes all over the mantel in your focus on the burning magazine. Pooplord. Oh yeah, your grandmother's ashes are in an urn on your fireplace, along with a fetching picture of her. Such is the life of an Egbert, you suppose. Your dad is weird. And did you mention how lame he is?

Ignoring the mess you’ve created, the burned skeleton of the magazine, barely intact, and the ashes that have gotten everywhere, you grab one of your dear old dad’s numerous pipes. 

Putting it in your mouth, your disguise from before feels even more real. Who are you? Not John Egbert. Who even is that guy, anyway? 

You finally turn towards the giant present, having exhausted all other options. Pulling off the bow, you begin to regret every action you’ve ever taken. It’s bound to be terrible, because you’ve already gotten something great today. You read the tag.

CHAMP.  
YOU CAN DO ANYTHING IF YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO IT.  
I BELIEVE IN YOU.  


God, what a sap. So lame. 

. . . 

Fuck this. This is the definition of a prank gone too far. And a harlequin, too.

You set  _it_ on the couch carefully, suddenly not understanding how Dave thinks puppets can be even remotely cool. Dolls surely aren't. God, how creepy. You clean up the ashes, trying not to make eye contact with that unholy being that you just unwrapped.

You sweep the ashes up into the urn, setting it back on the mantel where it was before. You are suddenly struck with an irrational desire to go upstairs and grab the arms from the cake.

You do just that, sprinting up the blocky dumb stairs in what would seem like no time at all. Holding the gooey cake-and-frosting slathered arms, you feel your general sense of hilarity deplete, just a little. No matter. You know exactly what to do with these, and it will be an even greater gag.

It seems like Rose is pestering you. Finally, you had started to think that nobody remembered your birthday. 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

TT: Have you gotten the beta release yet, John?  
TT: Jade is growing antsy, though she won’t admit to it directly.  
EB: i'm trying to go get it from him, so brb  
TT: John.  
TT: You're wearing one of your disguises now, aren't you?  
TT: You are typing to me right now while wearing something ridiculous.  
EB: why would you even think that?  
EB: that's so stupid.  
TT: Ok.  
TT: Have you heard from Dave, by the way? He hasn’t pestered us since yesterday.  
EB: no, he hasn’t pestered me either.  
TT: Unnerving. He knows we won’t play the game without him.  
TT: Why don't you go get the game from your father?  
EB: alright, wish me luck.  
EB: oh, btw...  
EB: jk I was wearing a funny disguise this whole time.  
EB: gotcha! hehehehe  
TT: I know, John.  


\--  tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

You decide to follow Rose’s advice, getting up from your chair and heading downstairs. Smiling, you know that’s Rose’s way of wishing you Happy Birthday, even though she didn’t say it directly. You aren’t looking forward to any sort of interaction with your lame dad, but it can’t be helped, not anymore. 

You shuffle towards the doll, and put the frosting covered fake arms on the doll. 

Wow. You are the master of all things funny, it is you.

You grab what remains of GameBro magazine, and chuck it back into the fire. How’d it manage to escape? Acting on a whim, you toss the present wrap in too. Cleanliness exudes from your very being. Your dad would be proud.

You pull out Colonel Sassacre’s, intending to gauge the amount of absolute japery you’ve just created. It must be a quite large amount. 

Flipping the first page open, you recoil on instinct. Books, gross. You close the book, forgetting it. Even in your current state of procrastination, you can’t read that. 

Sighing to yourself, you look at the two doors. Your father is either in the study, or the kitchen. You’ll check the study first. Your dad won’t recognize you, anyways, what with your disguise.

Dang, your pop isn’t in. He must be in the kitchen then. Looking on his desk, you spot a lot of weird, uncool, dad-like items. SO LAME. You find a cool hat though, so you guess it’s not all bad.

You sit down at the piano, studying the ivory keys. You learned to play when you were very young, and you enjoy it quite a lot. You play a short refrain, feeling the haunting tune reverberate through your fingers.

Then you play 52 Pick-Up. 

With yourself.

What hilarious antics you get up to in your spare time.

Downright hysterical.

You leave the study and start to head out of the house. There’s a small chance that your mail could be in the mailbox, not in the kitchen with your dad. As you step out of the house, you feel the breeze on your cheeks. It feels less vibrant, this morning. In fact, this whole day has felt sort of disquiet, leaving you uneasy.

The mailbox is empty. Fuck. You look around your neighborhood, at the houses so similar and quiet it feels abandoned. Eerie. Something is missing.

You look in your father’s car window, and see a bright green box on the passenger’s seat. There’s a slip of paper under it. You shuffle around to the kitchen window, but it’s too fogged up from baking to see much of anything. Your dad is so weird. 

Squinting, you think you can make out a bright red package and the beta. You think about climbing through the window to snatch it, but the window is locked. Resigned, you go back into the house. You have to go into the kitchen, then. A dad interaction is inevitable.

You’re expecting a dadly strife, but he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, a cake not far away. He looks resigned, wary. He doesn’t even have a pipe.

“Son, come here. I’ve got something to tell you,” he says. You walk forward slowly, anxious. What’s going on? Why is your father so tense? You lean against the counter as well, and he puts an arm around you, seeming to be lost in thought, staring at the beta copy of your game.

“Something is off. I can feel it,” he starts. “These events, they feel…” he readjusts his hat, a sign that means he is grasping for the right words. “This isn’t the way the timeline is supposed to be, something went awry.” He finally finds the words, looking defeated.

What does he mean? “Dad, you’re acting weird,” You say it slowly, feeling immensely uncomfortable. “I’m going to my room,” you add, making a move to shrug off his arm and grab your mail. 

“No, son, you aren’t going to play that game, the circumstances are too off. Please, it’s the best way to keep you safe.” He pulls you back towards him, gently, and now you are facing him.

His face is lined with age, and he looks so much older than you remember. When’s the last time you had a heartfelt discussion with your dad?

“Dad, I don’t get this, I’m already safe, haha,” you say, chuckling awkwardly. 

“John, look at me.” He says it so adamantly, but there’s a trace of gentleness there that catches you. It scares you.

“Is anything off, that you’ve noticed, about today?” His face darkens. He mumbles something, but you only catch one word.

Strider.

You suddenly don’t understand anything. You never told Dad about your friends. 

“Well, Dave hasn’t responded to any of us since yesterday, but he often goes days at a time without responding, so.” You leave off the part where it’s not just any day, and he wouldn’t ditch you today for anything. You know this. “Besides, it’s still early in the day. He could respond, later.”

“Today is a very important day, John. A world altering day. If anything is off, and you play that game, you start the cycle. You will fail, and-” his voice catches, and he smiles. It looks strained.

“Perhaps I should explain from the beginning,” he says. You nod your head, very confused. “You, Jade, Rose, and Dave all arrived on earth from meteors. Lalonde, Strider, Harley, and I, we all made sure we were present for your landing, and adopted each of you, respectively.” He clears his throat, continuing. “We knew that you children were majorly important, on a universal scale. You would be the players on planet to survive the barrage of meteors, the ones to finally finish the game, and create a new universe.” He glances down at you, his expression hardening. “Some of us had…” he trails off. “Differing parenting styles, trying to prepare you for what was to come, but I’m afraid all has not gone to plan. So you cannot play the game, John. It’s far too dangerous.”

“Dad, maybe you need a break from baking, and go lie down for a bit?” God, what is going on? You have every right to believe that your father is having an unexplainable, spontaneous bout of insanity, but his words, they ring true, they strike something in your memory that you don’t understand or like. 

“Now, John, I am well aware of how strange this sounds,” Dadbert says, as though he hasn’t just told you something world shattering, to be dramatic.

“Well, yeah, when you told me I was adopted, I always assumed I was just from, like, foster care, or something. And a world-ending video game? You’re saying that you knew about the end of the world and you didn’t tell me? You wouldn’t do that.” Your tone is dubious, uncomprehending.

“I was trying to protec-” he starts, but you cut him off, stepping away from him.

“I’m not even going to get into the universe creation thing, It’s crazy. Dad, are you okay?” He walks toward you, an intense expression in his eyes. He sighs.

He grabs a plate from the cupboard, setting it on the counter. “Please, I would have told you, but we all agreed-” 

“Who?” God, you think you’re starting to believe him. He just begged you, for christ sake. He grabs a knife from the drawer, and starts slicing the cake with his dadly precision.

“Your friends' respective guardians, John. We are…” he frowns. “Mutual acquaintances, you could call it,” he says slowly, carefully. “When Harley died, we decided it would be best to keep contact to a minimum, considering the nature of his passing.” He slides a slice of cake onto a plate, handing it to you. He looks so serious, you have to trust him. 

This is just. It’s a lot.

You take it. You take the cake, because more important things are happening right now. You try to rearrange your thoughts into a coherent question. “So, do you know what got messed up? Why we can’t play anymore?” 

“Not yet, but I assume it is something on the Striders’ end,” Dad says. “Maybe you should go and chat with your friends, or do something in your room, I know this is bound to be a shock.”

...Lame.

“Yeah, okay, I guess. I’m taking the cake.” You see the red package, and are reminded. “Hey, Dad, is the green box in the car for me?” You say, tucking the red one under your arm, a plate of cake in the other hand. 

“Yes, you can go get it, just don’t grab the other copy of the game,” He says, fishing out his keys, checking that you left the game under the counter. Bluh, you aren’t that dumb! 

He doesn’t get to see the annoyance on your face, because he turns towards the telephone, dialing a number. You go out to the car, excited about all the mail you are getting. Maybe the red package is from Dave, and the green one Jade?

You hope Dave is alright. 

You set your cake on the table next to the couch, and exit. You sprint to the car, excited. Scooping the present up, you leave the game in the car, not even daring to touch it. This thing would destroy the world?

You go up to your room, jumping the dreadful stairs two at a time. You are juggling a plate, and two packages, so you struggle to get back into your room. When you do, you collapse on the bed, setting all the stuff next to you. 

You pull off your glasses, watching as the textured divots of the popcorn ceiling soften into hazy shadows. Is what your dad was saying really true? Were you really destined to destroy the universe? And create a new one?

You sit up, deciding to ignore it, like you ignore most of your problems. You open the green present first, struggling with the packing tape.

dear john,

happy birthday!!!!!!! :D

i dont want to start off this note on a bad note(hehe), but writing this, i guess i feel kind of... weird???? i dont know, i feel like this is not what i am supposed to be doing!! isnt that strange? 

but anyways, remember when you gave me that shirt on my birthday, and those pumpkin seeds? (that was so cool!) i thought it would be really cool if i gave you some clothes too! you can officially steal my green, hehe.

about this present! i had rose help me learn the stitching, because it is really hard!! but i finished it, and i think you’ll look so good in it!!!

i feel like a lot of things are gonna be possible soon! we could probably even meet up. things just feel strange, so stay safe!!!!!!!!! :D

<3

jade 

You put the letter on the bed, your heart warm with the words. Reaching deeper into the box, you pull out a green squiddle felt and cloth pin. You touch the stitching, feeling the detail and work put into it. Fastening it to your clothes, you smile. Jade is the most sincere person you’ve ever met.

You grab what must be Dave’s present, careful not to rip the red material. Opening it up, you get a glimpse of the gift inside.

...

Holy fucking shit.

It’s the bunny. It’s the bunny from Con Air. He got an actual movie prop for you, after you thought you were giving him a gift that he could never top. You felt so smug.

He found a way to top the shades, apparently. You read the letter.

so hey

since its your bday i had to get you back for the sick memorabilia you got me so i got you this godawful thing and now i just know youre standing there flipping your shit over it so youre welcome.

its the actual gross bunny in the movie so that means nick cage actually grubbed it up with his clownish no talent fingers. i would suggest you put it somewhere and display it ironically but i know youre dead serious about this ridiculous shit so youll probably sleep with the damn thing and nibble its ear and stuff.

but the weird thing is thats whats cool about you. youre this naive guy like pinocchio tumbled ass backwards off the turnip truck and started liking ghostbusters. then the fairy godmother kissed your nose or some shit and you turned out to be not made of wood and also pretty cool to talk to. one day your gooberish ways are gonna land you in a jam and i know im going to have to get you off the hook but its cool i got your back bro.

kinda lame but i think you should chill at home or something for a while dont do any crazy spin moves or any of that bullshit.

ily dawg no homo

peace

tg 

‘Ily dawg?’ 

You ignore and put away the letter, including the ‘be careful’ bit, holding the bunny in your hands again. There’s a note of authenticity in the bottom of the box. You think you are shaking. Nic cage touched this bunny. 

You slide over to your computer chair, slightly dazed. Oh, Jade’s pestering you. Or, was. 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering  ectoBiologist [EB] \--

GG: hi happy birthday john!!!!! <3  
GG: helloooooo??  
GG: ok i will talk to you later!!! :D  


\--gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering  gardenGnostic [GG] \--

EB: sorry jade.  
EB: i got your present! it is adorable, i love it.  
GG: oh man!!!!! :D  
GG: you like it?!  
EB: yeah of course i do!!  
EB: thanks.  
EB: really.  
GG: it was actually kind of short notice, hehe.  
GG: my penpal and i were working on the parts for years, he was totally excited about making it with me!  
GG: but then he disappeared. D:  
GG: so i had to think of a new present to get you!  
EB: wait.  
EB: years?!  
GG: yeah! this was supposed to be a really special birthday, john.   
GG: but then...   
GG: something went wrong!  
GG: even the future dreams stopped!   
GG: and to think, i was so sure that i knew everything that was going to happen, i thought i was super special.  
GG: turns out, i was really, really wrong!  
GG: i am starting to think that this is a weird fantasy that my brain made up!!!!  
EB: no, i think...  
EB: i think you’re right.  
EB: my dad talked to me, and he said a lot of the same things.  
EB: something about sburb?  
EB: it was crazy.  
GG: YES!!!  
GG: we were supposed to play!  
GG: we aren’t going to anymore.  
EB: i don’t get why we can’t just play, anyways. couldn’t we still win, even if we did it a different way?  
GG: that would be pretty hard!  
GG: think of it like a list of instructions.  
GG: if you mess up the first few directions, then you can’t continue the list. You wouldn’t have any directions to follow.  
GG: you would be going in blind!  
EB: yeah, i guess that makes sense.  
EB: oh shoot, i have to tell dave i got his present.   
EB: bye, jade!  
GG: bye john, be careful!  


\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering  ectoBiologist [EB] \--

Looking at the familiar green text, you are a little more at ease, despite the words of warning. She had said be careful, which you’ve heard far too much today for your liking. You close out of the tab, clicking on the greyed-out text of Daves handle. You bite your lip in worry, clicking on the name.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]\--

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum! --  
EB: yeah, i know you aren’t there right now.  
EB: but i got your present.  
EB: it’s real, holy shit dave!!!  
EB: how much did you spend on this?  
EB: ...  
EB: okay well respond when you can so i can properly express my gratitude!  
EB: goodbye, dave.  


\-- ectoBiologist [EB]  ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

He’s still not responding, dang. You start to close out of pesterchum, but it looks like someone added you to a memo. You click on it.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] created board “SBURB conundrum.” --   
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] added ectoBiologist [EB], gardenGnostic [GG], and turntechGodhead [TG] to board. --  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] opened memo on board “SBURB conundrum.” --

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] is now an idle chum! --  
\-- gardenGnostic [GG] responded to memo. --  
GG: hi!!!  
GG: what’s happening?  
GG: what did your mom tell you?  
\-- ectoBiologist [EB] responded to memo. --  
EB: it’s what we were talking about earlier, stuff not going as it should. apparently my dad knew about it too?  
TT: As I expected. It isn’t just me.  
TT: I apologize, Jade. Of course you couldn’t have known, it’s not as though Becquerel could have told you.  
EB: yeah, i just chose to forget about what he said, haha. It sounds kind of dumb.  
EB: why trust a bunch of kids to create a whole universe?  
TT: Perhaps it is more interesting that way.  
GG: ...  
GG: okay, i didn’t know that part! I probably should have figured it out, though.  
EB: right, the future dreams. this is kind of freaky, guys.  
TT: I wonder if Dave’s brother told him about this.   
TT: I am getting quite worried. Perhaps I should get Mother to call him.  
TT: I will be back shortly.  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] is now an idle chum! --  
EB: so, what’s up with those dreams anyways?   
EB: do you know exactly what i am going to do, before i do it?  
GG: no, silly!!!  
GG: when i went to bed, i woke up in this city of gold! It was beautiful!  
GG: but one day they just stopped!  
GG: wait, it was the day jake stopped responding!   
EB: who’s jake?  
GG: my penpal, duh!  
GG: maybe he was what went wrong?  
GG: that doesn’t sound right.  
GG: this is all so complicated.  
GG: i’m so confused.  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] is no longer an idle chum! --  
TT: Neither Dave or his brother are at the phone.  
TT: she emailed Bro’s PDA as well.  
TT: I am worried.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! So, where's dave gone off to? it's a secret...  
> Wowie pesterlogs are not nice to me :(  
> If I did something wrong with the pesterlogs, or just the writing in general, please leave a comment so I can fix it!!(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و I tried to make it as John-sounding as possible!  
> here are the sources that i forgot to post earlier:  
> part of Rose and John's conversation:  
> https://www.homestuck.com/story/63  
> a teeny bit of Jade's letter:  
> https://www.homestuck.com/story/1957  
> almost all of Dave's letter:  
> https://www.homestuck.com/story/1662
> 
> The next update will be on Friday, August 7th, at the latest! :)


	2. Rose: Get Worried.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has a heartfelt discussion with her mom and Dave is still nowhere to be seen.

You are Rose Lalonde. 

And you were dreaming, until a few moments ago.

You were awoken by the buzz of your computer, most likely being a friend that wants to talk. 

Groaning, you fling the covers off of you. You get out of bed, and do the normal wake up things that everyone does; shower, clothes, makeup, the works. 

You do, in fact, realize that whoever wants to speak with you cannot actually see whether you are fully clothed or not, but you still like to be dressed nicely, even if your room is an absolute disaster. You suppose this is due to the total, infallible delicacy and level of presentable grace your mother has in public, at her meetings for astrology, astronomy, or… 

You blank. There was another field, another subject that she dabbled in. It seems you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you simply don’t care.

Pulling your body over to your computer chair, you sigh. It’s more like a proper dining chair, supported with rounded spindles made of thick wood. It exudes class.

You pull up Pesterchum, surprised to find that it is Jade. You thought it would be John, hopefully with news about the beta.

\--  gardenGnostic [GG]  began pestering  tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

GG: hey, rose!!  
GG: rose?  
TT: Sorry, I was sleeping.   
GG: oh no, did i wake you?

You smile. Jade really is too good for you, sometimes.

TT: It’s not a problem, I should’ve been up already.  
TT: What did you want to talk about?  
GG: well, i was going to ask if you had heard from dave, but you were asleep!  
GG: so i guess not.  
GG: he hasn’t responded in a while, i’m getting worried.   
TT: That is troubling, but it’s not as though he hasn’t done this before.  
TT: he always apologizes afterwards, so that’s something to look forward to.  
GG: yeah, that will be fun!  
GG: but something about this time feels different  
GG: i don’t know.  
GG: maybe he’s not coming back.  
TT: I wouldn’t fret over it, he always comes back.  
GG: i guess. Maybe you should pester him?  
TT: Will do.

\--  tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--

You close out the window, checking the time. 10:00. Dave usually pesters someone by now, you know he gets up with the sun. You click on his handle.

\--  tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TT] \--

TT; Dave, you are worrying Jade.  
TT: …  
TT: Respond when you can.  


\--  tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TT] \--

Jade isn’t the only one who’s worried. Something about this makes you uneasy. 

Scooting out of your chair, you walk down the stairs, checking to make sure your lipstick hasn’t rubbed off. You figure you could grab some brunch before wishing John well.

You find Mother in the kitchen, holding a martini, as per usual. Her hair slicked into tight curls that frame her face. She is wearing a short thin lab coat, one that seems to be wrinkled and disheveled, which surprises you. Of course, she has on leggings and heels. Sometimes you wonder if they’re attached to her body.

You fill up the teapot, and set it on the stove, once again wishing she drank tea like you do, to save you the effort. 

“Rose, dear, we should chat. After breakfast, of course.” You startle, pulling the dainty tea container from the top shelf.

You almost audibly groan, but settle for an inward eye-roll. “Of course, mother.” the sentiment is said through gritted teeth.

Your mother walks off, seemingly finished with you after stating her proposition. 

The tea whistles, and you pull it off the stove, pouring yourself a cup, using a delicate china teacup from your mother’s set. Placing the teabag in the cup, you eye your mother’s glossy black PDA on the counter. A way to contact your friends, on the go? You snatch it, and log into Pesterchum.

You proceed to have the conversation that began with: 

\--  tentacleTherapist [TT]  began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

TT: Have you gotten the beta release yet, John?  


And finished with:

EB: jk i was wearing a funny disguise this whole time.  
EB: gotcha! hehehehe  
TT: I know, John.  


\--  tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

Downing the last of your tea in a very un-ladylike fashion, you set down the device. You shouldn’t snoop.

You really shouldn’t.

You scroll through her messages, trying to find something private and personal to use against her. You stop, your finger hovering over a message sent to a group. This is…

Dave’s Brother. John’s father. They have to be. Egbert, Strider, Lalonde.  
It’s an old chain of messages, so you sort by date, starting with the first. 

The message is sent from who must be Bro, one singular line of text, three years ago.

It's soon. on the kid's birthday.

You dig further, but before you can read anything else important, a voice shocks you out of your absorption in the PDA.

It’s Mother. “Rose, dear, everything on that PDA is information I was intending to tell you in our discussion today. Now, Are you really going to only have tea for breakfast?” She stands in the doorway, her hand on her hip. 

“Yes, mother,” you say through tight lips straightening. You shut off the device, and watch as she settles into the white couch behind the kitchen. She beckons you, intending for you to sit next to her.

You scoot deep into the pristine white couch, frowning. Is she going to lecture you? Or, more likely, give you a cold stare and passive-aggressive remarks for your disobedience. 

She sets down her drink, and looks at you.

“Honey, I’m sorry.” You furrow your brow, thinking. A guilt trip, most likely.

“I am not going to make excuses for how I’ve been treating you. I only just realized how hard I am making this.” teeming to decide that she needs that drink, she picks it back up, taking small sips. “The video game you and your friends are playing, it’s very important,” she continues, in her ‘I-am-speaking-to-a-child’ voice. You wrinkle your nose. “For instance, if you and your friends were going to play this game today, four meteors would fall down to earth, and crash on your-our respective homes.”

You shake your head, trying to think. Why spin such an elaborate lie? What does she want from you?

Your frown deepens. “Mother, what a tale you’ve spun. But you know I am not one to blindingly trust.” You say this, because you know that she doesn’t know. For all she knows, you could be, in fact, ‘blindingly trustful.’

“Well of course.” She smirks at you. Belittling, as always. “I’ll show you what I’ve been working on, maybe that will sway you.”

She sets down her now-empty drink, and walks you up the stairs to the observatory. Her heels click in time with yours on the white architectural staircase. She opens the door, letting you go in front of her. 

Her laptop sits on a table, what looks like a hurriedly dragged in collapsible one. Looking around, you notice a lot of pieces of paper, not piled up nicely, no, but strewn across the ground and written on it are the scribbles of a madman, but in your mother’s glossy black gel pen.

“It’s not the cleanest I’ve ever been, I’ll admit it,” she says, sounding… genuinely sheepish? ‘But- here, where did I put it…” She trails off, picking up a few pieces of paper, pushing some out of the way. 

Your eyes land on a graph, poorly drawn, with what seems to be an aerial view of the United States. There are house-shapes in New York, Washington, Houston, and an island offshore that you do not know the name of. You assume that these are your and your friends homes. 

“Here it is,” she exclaims, grabbing the chart. You now see that there are numerous x’s all over the paper, including right on top of the house symbols. 

“These,” she points to the x’s, “are the impact sites, the bigger the x the bigger the meteor. As you can see, there are a lot of them. I’ve been trying to create something that will protect the crash areas. I didn’t know if the world would be salvageable after the game, or if you would need a way to evade the meteors during it.”

You suck in a sharp breath, and bite your lip thoughtfully. “So this is what you’ve been doing? I assumed you were ‘dipping into the sauce’, as they say,” you snark. 

“Well, I must admit, I did a fair amount of that as well,” she says, with the same hint of sheepishness you thought you heard before. “And I know it sounds like an excuse, but I’ve been busy. What is even worse is that it wouldn’t have helped, anyways. I wouldn’t have been able to finish it in time.” And she does look regretful. This shocks you.

“I want to say that I am sorry, Rose. For how I’ve treated you over the years. Realizing that I couldn’t finish the project made me realize that what I was doing wasn’t fair to you, even if I thought it was for your own good. But every time I tried to-“ her breath catches, and though you are still reeling with the revelation that, oh god, your mother cares.

She cares about you, beyond all the passive aggressive bullshit. You dare say she even loves you. Your throat clogs with guilt.

“Yes, making everything into a battle of wits, shoving you away, I know now that’s what I was doing, wasn’t it?” You shrug. “Made it pretty hard for a sincere discussion, right?” You smile, bitter.

“Oh no, honey, that’s not what I was going to say! You never shoved me away!” She steps towards you, and…

She wraps you in a hug. A sincere, tearful hug. She’s hugged you before, of course, but it always felt so stiff, with you always trying to work out her reasoning. But no, this is an honest to god, emotional, motherly hug. 

You hug her back, wrapping your arms around her bent form, albeit awkwardly. “No, I was going to say that every time I started to talk to you, I was reminded of my numerous projects, and how little time I had left. I receded back to the lab, and put you, and everyone else, below my work. I am so, so, sorry, sweetie.”

This time, you aren’t repulsed by the nickname. 

You step away, making an effort to remain dignified. “So, the game session, why can’t we play it? What went wrong?” You ask.

“I don’t know what happened quite yet. Has something happened to one of your friends? Or their guardians? It could be anything that diverges from canon, even if things only changed slightly. Butterfly effect.”

“Well, Dave has been mysteriously distant since this morning, though that isn’t necessarily strange, for him.”

“Shit.” Your mother looks at you, frowning deeply. “I’m certain he will be back, he wouldn’t ditch John on his birthday.” you, John, Dave, and Jade’s houses in an overall chart of the United States.  
There are x’s on each of the houses, and smaller ones other places as well.

“These are the impact spots,” your mom says, pointing at the x’s. “Or, were, at least. Will be, if the game gets played.” She puts down the paper.

“Which it won’t, correct?” you add, frowning.

“Of course not, dear. That would not end well, I expect.” Back to our regularly scheduled dainty speculation then. Just the way you like it.

“I’m going to be in my room then, I will see if I can contact Dave.” 

“I think that will be futile.” She says it darkly, frowning. “You can certainly give it a go, though.”

“This is not good,” she starts, worry lines standing out on her face. “He always responds. Always. It’s a rule. Go ask your friends if they know about the game, come find me after. I’ll explain more then.” She says it all distractedly, probably not realizing how sharp and orderly her words sound.

But she’s trying. She’s been stressed, the extinction of the human race hanging heavily over her head. It’s going to take some time, but you think you can salvage this. 

Rushing back upstairs, you sit back into your chair, pulling out pesterchum. 

You create a memo that we have already seen. It started out like this;

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] created board “SBURB conundrum.” --  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] added ectoBiologist [EB], gardenGnostic [GG], and turntechGodhead [TG] to board. --  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] opened memo on board “SBURB conundrum.” --  


TT: Have your respective guardians told you about what has happened?  


And we left of right here;

TT: I wonder if Dave’s brother told him about this.  
TT: I am getting quite worried. Perhaps I should get Mother to call him.  
TT: I will be back shortly.  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] is now an idle chum! --  


You walk out of your bedroom and down the stairs, looking for your mother. She is in the kitchen again, typing on her PDA.

“Mother, you wished to speak to me?” You say, slowly walking towards her.

“Yes, let’s move to the couch. This might be a long conversation,” she says, putting the device in her pocket. 

You follow her out the doorway and onto the couch. “So,” she starts, “You and Dave, you’re related. Ecto-twins, in fact.”

… Well. Mother certainly seems to be dropping all the bombshells today. “What, so, you were, erm, with, Dave’s adoptive father?” You frown, thinking. Dave’s father must have been relatively old, for Dave’s brother to be old enough to take care of him, assuming Bro isn’t adopted as well. 

“No. No on several counts. I would never do anything with that man, disgusting.” Her tone changes to something more thoughtful. “It’s peculiar how he always wanted Dave to refer to him as Bro, don’t you think?” she sits on the couch, and you sit next to her.

“...” You speak ellipses out loud, because you are That Shocked.

“Let me explain, dear,” she says, crossing her legs on the couch next to you. “As I am sure you gathered from my previous statement, Dave is Strider’s son. He was adopted, just like you, and all your friends, as I explained before. 

“You and Dave are related ectobiologically. We don’t know much about how this works, something to do with paradox slime and cloning. But think of yourself as twins, alright?” she looks towards you, frowning. “Strider was against telling you about your relatives, he wanted you to find it out in the game. We disagreed with a lot of things he said, but ultimately, he controlled how much information we got, so we did what he said.” 

She smiles, nostalgia lifting her cheekbones. “It’s funny, none of us really believed him, not until you dears came down from the sky. Egbert was especially dubious, but we went to the supposed ‘crash sites’ to humor him. Egbert was so surprised, it was wonderful.” 

The light blush dusting her cheeks is wiped away as her thoughts seem to darken. “Strider, he became…” she pauses, calculating what to say. “After he got Dave, he didn’t reply to any messages for months. He started withholding information, only telling us what we needed to know. When Harley died, all he said was that it didn’t affect anything, that we were to do as we were before. That he would handle it.” She pulls out her PDA, pushing the buttons at the bottom to find the right contact. “Perhaps I should call him.”

She tries three times. Each one is left ringing. She doesn’t leave a voicemail. “Fuck.”

“I think I now realize the extent of what I’ve overlooked. Strider was never very expressive, always a little too critical, but things might be a lot worse, now.” She tussles her hair, and motions to grab for the drink she left on the table, before realizing that it's empty, placing her hand limp on her lap. “Dave might be… in a bad place, with him.” she says it reluctantly. “I could see Strider doing something drastic after Dave has, in his eyes, outlived his usefulness. Strider, he’s very single-minded.”

“What, he’ll throw him onto the streets, or something?” you say, aghast. “This doesn’t match up with Dave’s descriptions, though. Dave never said anything negative about his brother. Father. No, brother.” You say this despite yourself, trying to get outside reassurance, hoping that your mother is just being overly speculative. You cannot have overseen something as drastic as this. 

“Nothing? Well, I might have been wrong.” She clears her throat, testing the atmosphere of the room before continuing. “I know, from your perspective, it will seem drastic, but I think it’s about time I visited Strider. I need to talk to him about changes, big ones. Would you like to come? Maybe see Davie in person?” She uses a light, teasing tone, but you just nod, caught up in your thoughts.

“Well, go pack, It will only be a few days, maximum, don’t bring too much.” 

You walk up the stairs, frowning. A new family member. Two, in fact, if you’re generous. You don’t know what to do with this information.

You sit on your bed, putting your head in your hands. The packing can wait. You have a lot of thinking to do. 

You sit up, remembering the memo. You have to report the new information.

You skim the messages, learning about this elusive ‘Jake’ character. You respond to the memo.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] is no longer an idle chum! --  
TT: Neither Dave or his brother are at the phone.  
TT: I believe she emailed Bro’s PDA as well.  
TT: I am worried.  
EB: me too! This is really weird.  
GG: yeah, dave would never miss a birthday!!  
TT: Mother seemed to be very alarmed, when I brought up that Dave hadn’t responded.  
TT: I am scrolling through past conversations, and I think that things might be worse than he is letting on.  
TT: Do you remember when he talked about his Bro?  
TT: Maybe the strifes were more brutal than he let on.  
TT: Maybe what I wrote off as Strider being hopelessly dramatic was actually a call for help.  
TT: As I said, I am worried.  
GG: rose, that’s dumb!  
GG: dave wouldn’t have lied to us about bro!  
GG: and he is always talking about how cool his bro is  
GG: he wouldn’t lie about that  
GG: would he?  
EB: yeah, jade’s right.  
EB: dave is always talking about how cool bro is, i want a guardian like that!  
EB: bro can’t be, like…  
EB: doing that sort of stuff.  
EB: that’s silly!  
TT: I suppose. I’ll take it into consideration, but I must say I am not entirely convinced.  
TT: I have to go and pack.  
TT: Oh, yes, I knew I was forgetting something.  
TT: Dave and I are twins.  
TT: Ectobiologically, of course. My mother isn’t very fond of Strider.  
EB: what? Like my username? i got that from a troll, though.   
GG: it’s a science, john! think of slime baby clones.  
GG: that’s us!  
EB: what the hell? i thought it was meteors.  
GG: we were slimed into existence, and then put on meteors, i think!  
EB: this is really, really dumb.  
TT: Well said.  
TT: But, I really must go now.  
TT: I’ll tell you more if I know more.  


\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] closed memo. --  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kind of rushed, because I was sick for like a week. Not Corona, just a flu or something. Also DaveKat week has been a thing that has been happening, so this was put on the back burner for that.
> 
> Not going to have a update date this time, but I'm not going to stop updating!


	3. Jade: Move.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade finally moves in!!! this cahpter sucks im sorry

You are Jade Harley.

You are not dreaming.

You pull your suitcases down the stairs to the transportalizer. It’s been three days since Dave went missing, and a lot longer since the timeline diverged. Mr. Egbert called you and told you that he had legal custody of you. 

He was your god-father, you guess? He has legal guardianship of you, anyways. You won’t question it.

Transportalizing to the bottom of the tower, you look around for Bec. He’s at the edge of the water, examining the steadily incoming boat. It’s small, just the right size to get you to a body of land with an airport. He barks, seemingly unsettled, but doesn’t teleport towards it just yet.

A pesterchum chime startles you, and you pull out the PDA you inherited from your Grandfather.

\-- pipeFan [PF] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--  


PF: Hello, Jade.  
PF: Has the ship arrived yet?  
GG: nope, but i can see it!  
GG: it’s almost to the island  
PF: Wonderful. Do contact me when you board, or anytime at all.  
GG: will do, mr. egbert!!  


\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering pipeFan [PF] --

You smile. Mr. Egbert seems like a nice man, not at all as annoying or overprotective as John makes him out to be. 

The ship gets close to land, and Bec teleports you aboard with little to no problems. Frightens the heck out of the others on the ship though.

You travel by ship and plane without Bec. He wouldn’t like being put in a cage for hours and hours, anyways. As much as it pains you to leave him, you do it anyways, knowing he will teleport to your side when you land. He’s smart like that. 

You sit with Bec at the airport, frowning. Where are the Egberts? You want to meet your ecto brother. 

When you finally see him, you break out in a grin, sprinting towards him. Bec bounds happily beside you, barking loudly.

“JOHN!!!” you yell, smashing him in a hug. He responds just as enthusiastically, his hands tight around your waist.

“Hey, Jade! Wow, is that Becquerel?” He unwraps himself from your crushing hug, and puts his hands on his knees. “C’mon, boy!” he rubs in between the dog’s ears, who replies with an enthusiastic bark. He’s being good, he hasn’t gone off anywhere he isn’t supposed to yet.

That’s when you notice John’s father. He’s a few paces behind, talking in hushed tones on his PDA. He shoots you an apologetic smile, and then directs his attention back to the device.

“Oh, he’s talking to the Lalondes. It’s about Dave, I think.” his grin falters, but he still looks pretty excited to see you.

Dadbert motions for you to follow him, grabbing your suitcases and walking towards the exit, his dress shoes clicking against the tile flooring.

You must look like quite the group. A man in an entirely white dress outfit, an entirely white dog to match, and two strange, similar looking kids trailing behind. 

A ping from your pocket makes your eyes widen. You let your hopes get up, and check the message.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] opened memo on board “SBURB conundrum.” --

TT: Mother is talking with Egbert senior. We just left the Strider household.  
TT: It was…  
TT: Disturbing. To say the least.  
TT: Neither Strider was there. It seems to be recently abandoned. I’ll send a few pictures.  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] sent the file “striderapartment1.jpg” --  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] sent the file “striderapartment2.jpg” --  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] sent the file “striderapartment3.jpg” --  
TT: After a little bit of digging, we’ve found that a lot of nearby apartments have been bought out by Mr. Strider as well. They are completely empty, though.  
GG: ew  
GG: he always talked about the puppets but wow there sure are a lot of them  
TT: Not to mention the weapons.  
GG: so  
GG: where’s dave?  
GG: i’m letting john read over my shoulder by the way  
TT: We don’t know where they are.  
TT: The landlord didn’t even know they left.  
TT: I have to go, more updates as I learn.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] closed memo. --

You share a look with John, putting your PDA away. John’s dad finishes up the conversation, and you all leave the airport, piling into a white Mercedes. 

The car ride is quiet, and John’s father attempts to lighten the mood, telling you that they’ll find Dave eventually. It doesn’t really help, but the effort is appreciated.

The car pulls into the driveway, and a familiar white house comes into view. You can see the brick chimney, and the telescope. It’s not a model you recognize, though. 

Stepping into the house, you almost have to clap your mouth shut, to keep your jaw from dropping. There’s clown memorabilia everywhere. Bec goes through the house first, sniffing the living room couch before curling up on it, taking up half of the space with his tail. You snort.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, call me if you need help settling in, okay?” When you nod, he sets down your suitcase, and pulls on his apron from one of the drawers. He ties it as he walks to the kitchen, his hat just brushing the top of the doorway.

Everything’s been pre-planned, so you know which room is yours and all that domestic stuff. You notice that John is pouting a little, having to share a room with a girl must be oh-so hard on him. Pfft.

Pulling your suitcase up the stairs, you frown, watching Bec roughhouse with John. You are intruding on them an awful lot. You walk into John’s room and place the suitcase on your new shared bunk bed, seeing that John has already claimed the top one as his own. 

You put all your new stuff away, whistling a tune as you fold up your clothes and put them in your shared closet. You have mixed feelings at all the shuffled furniture. They didn’t have to do that, to accommodate you like that. Guilt can be so mean sometimes.

Soon, you’re called to dinner, startling you out of your tidying. You aren’t quite used to having people around yet, but you’ll get used to it!

“Sorry!” You yell as you bound down the stairs, startling John. Maybe he’s not used to you yet, either. He heads to the kitchen, and you follow close behind. It’s been quite a day, you need some grub. 

“Let’s go to the balcony, I set some chairs up.” Mr. Egbert gestures to three steaming bowls of soup, and you grin. “Wow, thanks. Mr. Egbert, this looks great!” you grab a bowl and a spoon with gusto, heading up to the balcony, where Bec already seems to be. 

“I am afraid that baking is much more my forte,” this man has the audacity to be embarrassed when this stuff is the best you’ve ever had. Well, the only cooking you’ve really had is yours and Grandpa’s, but neither of you were very good, and you were always more interested in figuring out which plants were edible than creating something actually tasty with them.

John glowers, sinking deeper into his chair. You promise to deal with that later, and soak in the sunset, looking over the grand white houses of suburbia. You’ll surely miss your island, with all the special plants and shiny tech. You had to leave a lot of that sort of thing behind, but things are looking better, for now.

You finish off your soup, and put it in the sink, before heading to your room again. You pull out your lunchtop, intending to tell Dave about- oh. Well, your mood has dampened considerably, now. You shoot him a message anyways.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

GG: hey dave!  
GG: i know you aren’t responding right now, which sucks  
GG: but that’s okay, i’m not mad or anything  
GG: just kind of sad really  
GG: i miss you!  
GG: come back, coolkid!  
GG: but anyways, i moved in with john today  
GG: his dad’s actually really nice, you should see him!  
GG: he’s calling me, i should go  
GG: bye dave, please be safe

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

“Jade, would you like any desert?” He knocks on the door softly, with a gentleness that surprises you. The only form of accompaniment you had in the past few years was a dog, and he usually teleported around wherever, so someone taking such care before simply barging in makes you feel really warm inside.

You smooth out your skirt, walking towards the door. “Yeah, ‘course I do!” you call out, opening the door abruptly. He chuckles and ruffles your hair like Grandpa used to, walking with you down the stairs. 

Once you are all in the kitchen, he hands John a plate of cake, who eyes it with familiar disgust. He goes to cut you a slice, but you wave your hands, suddenly apprehensive. 

“I shouldn’t. I’ve already…” Trailing off, you gesture to the room. You’ve already intruded too much, is what you were going to say. 

Dadbert puts a hand on your shoulder, tilting his head slightly. “You know, I would have done this years ago, had I not been so caught up in keeping the timelines from diverging. This is what should’ve happened, Jade.” He smiles. He holds out a piece of cake for you, tilting his hat in a way that makes you giggle. 

You accept the cake, feeling much lighter. You sit at a table next to John, frowning when he turns away from you, picking at his piece. 

“John, what’s going on?” You say it quietly, making sure the adult in the room can’t overhear. His frown deepens, and he sits up from the stool, putting his almost untouched plate in the sink. “I’ll tell you later,” he says as he passes you, leaving the kitchen and presumably going to his- your shared room.

Hurrying to finish the cake, you rinse out your plate in the sink and sprinting up the weird, blocky stairs. John is sitting in his computer chair, turned towards his window. You sit on the bed, ignoring the way Bec is taking up most of the bed. 

“I know we have other things to worry about, but…” John stands, finally turning towards you. He looks like he’s gearing up for a rant. “Just last week, everything was normal! I was a kid in the suburbs, playing video games, failing at code, watching good movies, but now I have a twin I met on the internet, and she’s moving into the house!” He gestures with his hands, looking for the right words. “I was never very good at sharing,” he admits. “And now I have to share my bed, my room, my house, my…” he frowns, trailing off. “My dad.”

Oh, yikes. “Uh. I’m sorry, I can sleep on the floor if you want! Or outside? I can sleep with Bec!” You did that sometimes, on the island. John puts a palm to his face, sighing. “No, I’m being an idiot. I just have to get used to it.” You nod, not sure of what else to do. 

“So… “ You start, frowning. “You want to play a game?” you shuffle through the items in your bag, finally pulling out your lunchtop. “It’s my favorite, but it’s pretty old,” you say, clicking around to find the modified version of Frogger. “With this version, you can dress the frogs in costumes! And there’s multiplayer, so we both can play!” 

You hand him your device, smiling to yourself. This game always lifts your spirits, so maybe John will be happier too, once he’s played. 

The both of you play the game until well into the night, with John losing by a wide margin. He doesn’t seem to be upset though, so you guess he had fun. You pull your lunchtop up to your bed and sit down, watching John climb up to the bunk above yours. You decide to pester Rose, to tell her how you’re doing.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

GG: hey rose!  
GG:i moved in with john!!!!  
GG: it’s very nice here  
GG: his dad gave me cake!  
GG: me and john played my modded version of frogger!!  
TT: John and I.  
GG: what?  
TT: You said “me and John,” when the proper way to say it would be “John and I.”  
GG: oh  
GG: whoops  
TT: How is John faring?  
GG: how did you know he was mad?  
GG: did he tell you?  
TT: I inferred.  
TT: John doesn’t do well with change.  
GG: yeah, he was mad for awhile, about having to share his stuff all the sudden!  
GG: which kinda made sense?  
GG: but then he said he was being a big baby and that he would get over it  
GG: so hes doing that right now i think  
GG: or maybe he was when we were playing the game idk  
GG: what’s going on with you??  
TT: We are still on the hunt for the Striders, and Mother has officially contacted the authorities today.  
TT: I don’t expect the police to do much good, though. From what my mother has told me about Bro, he is very elusive when he wishes to be.  
TT: We don’t even know his real name, just aliases.  
TT: We’ve looked through almost all the files found at the apartment, and we have a few leads. A lot of said evidence makes us think that the Striders are still somewhere in Houston.  
GG: that’s great!!  
GG: but that’s not what i was asking  
GG: how have you been doing?  
TT: I am well.  
GG that’s it??  
TT: Well, if you insist.  
TT: Mother asked me if I wanted to go to the shopping mall with her.  
GG: ooooh! was it fun?  
TT: I declined.  
GG; rooooose!  
GG: why?  
TT: I didn’t want to get distracted. There’s too much to do.  
TT: I can’t very well go shopping, when my brother is still missing.  
GG: rooooose!  
GG: that’s dumb  
GG: you have to rest sometime  
GG: would going to the mall for an hour really affect anything?  
GG: i know you want to find dave, i do too!  
GG: but you’re doing all you can  
TT: Jade…  
TT: Thanks.  
TT: I needed that.  
GG: ok well i’m going to bed! sleep, ok?  
TT: I will.  


\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blargh this chapter is terrible its so short and bad  
> but uh it exists so


End file.
